


Grace the Nameless

by heavnofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavnofhell/pseuds/heavnofhell
Summary: Love and trust know many forms.





	

Trust is not something that is easy to repair. Trust is not a child’s toy, easily fixed with a little glue, or replaced with a quick trip to the shop. Lucifer’s trust was no different, so often **abused** and **battered** and **shredded** to pieces in his desperate hands, but that _hardly_ meant he could **ever** stop needing Sam.

It hadn’t been as simple as it could have been - there were long moments of uncertain silences, averted eye contact and murmured apologies. Still, slowly and steadily, they built something, their trust mending through small and seemingly insignificant gestures, their relationship growing and transforming with each passing day.

Their chaste love (for truly, _it was love_ \- what other word could describe such fulfillment?) crawled carefully like an infant, strengthening and exploring new capabilities, and turning down unexplored paths as it gained momentum. Comforting hands turned to lingering embraces, fond smiles into gentle and **meaningful** kisses.

In this way, with teetering steps and hearts filled with **awe** , their love became _everything_ , and trust was no longer a question. And yet, Lucifer had been wary as they reached the final turning point, his observations of humans clouding his mind with thoughts of **primal** and **physiological** desires, unbecoming of an archangel of **God**.

Sam had never pushed, had never even so much as _asked_ about it, exhibiting remarkable control, pulling himself back from the high whenever he felt Lucifer begin to grow despondent beneath his touch. They would remain as they were, entangled in one another’s limbs, Sam’s ever-present soft smile bringing back the lightness to Lucifer’s eyes. 

The archangel’s reservations were not for worry of his own well-being, but for that of the hunter. He feared he might do something **wrong** , that he might _**harm**_ the man, physically or otherwise. He feared that he might be a **disappointment** , somehow - even if he knew that Sam would never allow something so basic to come between their intricately woven bond. 

It took some time, but, _eventually_ , the moment did come when, rather than pull away, Lucifer was pushing forward, wanting this - _truly wanting it_ \- both because Sam truly wanted it, and because the archangel knew that it was important - could **feel** that it was so, and he hoped to fully comprehend why. 

It had now become a part of what brought them together, though it was **never** routine or commonplace. Every single blissful encounter was like a small wonder in its own, and Lucifer no longer questioned the reason. When he falls into place on Sam’s lap, cool hands braced upon a broad, slick chest, warm fingers gripping his hips and guiding him slowly down, that’s when the archangel knows what it means to belong **wholly** to someone. This body - _ **his body**_ \- has become Sam’s **temple** , just as Sam has _always_ been Lucifer’s **sanctuary**. 

Sam coaxes him with whispered words that could almost incite laughter from the **Morning Star** , if only that deep, breathless voice did not sound so sweet and loving and filled with complete **awe**. 

“Almost… Are you okay?”  
“You’re doing great - oh, _you’re perfect_ , Lucifer.”   
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”  
“ _I love you_. So, so much.” 

Between these words, and the quiet, panting moans he draws from somewhere deep within Sam’s chest, Lucifer hears a **flawless melody** , created by the impossible perfection of their venerable union. It is a song that moves him endlessly - so powerful and haunting and beautiful. Their bodies move together in time, and he watches every shift of the human’s expression- watches as Sam gazes up, biting his lip and pushing further back into the pillows behind him. He watches as the man **comes undone** beneath him, Lucifer following just behind, falling apart from this **warm ecstasy** that tears through his entire being. 

But he is held together as those powerful fingers loosen their almost painful grip on his hips, the touch becoming soft as his head is cradled between the two large hands, Sam pulling him up from where he has buried his face into the crook of the hunter’s neck. The man is kissing him slowly, trailing up his jawline, and stopping, just behind his ear, his breath hot as he whispers so earnestly: 

“I love you, Lucifer. I’ll **always** love you.” And then Sam is wrapping his arm behind the archangel’s strong back, pushing forward and lowering him gently to the mattress, pinning him down and drowning him in more kisses of hopeless **devotion** and **adoration**. The archangel knows why the humans do this, and it is **far more** than an inherent drive to reproduce. He belongs to Sam, and Sam belongs to him, but, when it comes down to it, they are two beautifully **imperfect** creatures, coming together to form one, perfect whole, momentarily free of the **darkness** and the **doubt** that the world shrouds them in. 

When Lucifer catches his breath and pulls Sam against his chest, he almost wants to apologize for being such a fool. But he doesn’t. Instead, he threads his cool fingers through the messy chestnut hair, he pushes a kiss to the man’s forehead, and he whispers quietly. 

“ ** _Always_**.” 


End file.
